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The drive to church through Honey Pot took longer than normal. Trees limbs lay in the middle of the streets. Trash barrels and their contents spread over all of the lanes. On Main Street, the awning to the computer store sat torn and dirty in the center lawn. Hobo Joe was outside the coffee shop securing plywood over the bottom half of his front door. He waved to Lydia as she drove past.
The rain clouds were far to the south and no longer visible on the main circle of town. Sunlight sparkled off the wet cement and shimmied happily in the form of rainbows bouncing off storefront glass.
After church, Lydia planned to offer her arm for a sticking place. Ivy had been too woozy on Saturday to get a real feel for the unit. Lydia hoped to ease Ivy’s nerves by donating her own blood. Perhaps seeing someone she knew well, sit still and receive a needle wouldn’t be as intense for her. Bill had not been a great first impression for Ivy of the world of phlebotomy.
But her donation would have to wait until after Sunday School. “I’ve got Scout,” Lydia said. Scout blubbered at the mention of her name.
“And I’ll sit by Flora.” Ivy strapped the diaper bag over Lydia’s shoulder and kissed Scout goodbye. Each lady went their own way, Ivy to services and Lydia to serve.
Nursery volunteers were in short supply. Lydia didn’t normally volunteer for that age bracket, but she owed Kat a favor. Kat’s vacation overlapped her round of duty as a diaper changer and cereal dispenser. Lydia stepped in to help. At least, she would get to be with Scout.
During the sermon, Ivy felt Grant sitting behind her. She didn’t know if he was watching her or if he had even noticed her. She distracted herself by playing hangman with Eloise. The new teen loved the attention. Since the morning’s lesson was focused on marriage, Eloise chose not to listen as intently as usual. Ivy didn’t want to hear it either.
Deep down Ivy believed she wasn’t marriage material. Not for the kind of Godly man she wanted to help her raise Scout. She even questioned whether pursuing a father figure for Scout would be more detrimental to the girl than beneficial. After all, Don, her stepfather, was a horror to live with. He’d been a monster.
With her mind in the past, Ivy shifted from the present. Her skin prickled at the thought of Don touching her shoulder or “accidentally” walking into the bathroom as she changed. She remembered a time when Don was too drunk to pretend and just helped himself to her shower while she was in it.
Ivy had thought he was at work. Her Mema thought so as well. She’d taken off on a trip to the market. Ivy decided to stay home and marinate in the quiet. She planned to enjoy a quick oatmeal mask and a relaxed nail painting session. She should have known better.
Don surprised them both. Ivy didn’t know if the man had planned the deception or just stumbled upon the opportunity to be alone with her. Mema Annie never left Ivy alone with her stepfather. Not since her mother died.
That day in the shower, Ivy barely escaped Don’s clutches. Still covered in suds, she squished out of his grasp and hurried to her bedroom barricading herself inside. Don’s angry footfalls outside her door pumped like blood in her ears. Even though the episode was two years in the past, Don’s presence still hovered over her.
Ivy knew she was safe. She knew God had saved her then and continued to protect her now. Why couldn’t she let the past alone? Hot stinging tears forced themselves fee and splattered on the hangman board
Eloise looked up into Ivy’s face, unseen by the distant teen. She elbowed her mother softly in the ribs and pointed to Ivy. Flora put an arm around her daughter and squeezed her close and then rested a tender hand on Ivy’s back. That was all it took. The dam of tears Ivy controlled burst at the reassuring kindness of Flora’s touch. Her sob wrenched the silence.
Mortified, Ivy stumbled over the Brandes Family’s feet and ran out of the meeting room. She hustled into the bathroom and locked herself into a stall before letting any more wails escape.
The bathroom door beside her opened. Clicking heels drew closer to Ivy’s stall. A soft rap echoed on the metal door. “Ivy? Is that you? It’s Ines. What can I do to help?”
Ivy choked. Her sorrow clumped in her throat like she’d swallowed a huge spoonful of peanut butter. Ivy didn’t bother cleaning herself off or drying her face. She emerged from her tiny cubicle to come face to face with Ines. The librarian handed her a wad of tissues and escorted her to the ladies' room couch, kept in the outer portion of the bathroom.
“Let’s sit,” Ines said. Ivy obeyed. Ines offered an opened hand to Ivy. Awkwardly, Ivy took it. “You don’t have to say anything. We can just sit here if you’d like. I have nowhere to be.”
Ivy struggled to smile but knew it wasn't worth her effort. “What about Professor Barnaby and your nephew?”
“They’re both old enough to look after themselves.” Ines warmed. Her tone was light and casual. “Besides, Bill is visiting Jake. They had some things to discuss this morning. I’d rather not be present for the upcoming conversation.”
“Oh? I thought things were going well?”
Ines rolled her shoulders as if dumping a load of stress from her body. “Jake and Bill may look like the same person however they are anything but... at dinner last night, Jake was inquisitive, intrusively so. It was inappropriate. And Grant was there listening to it all. They both come from different places in their lives. That's all... it’ll work out. But enough about that. How are you feeling?”
Ivy wiped at her eyes. The pressure in her throat faded without her noticing. She’d been listening to Ines instead of replaying her past. It worked to offset the weight of her memories.
“I’ll be okay. Sometimes life just sneaks up on me.”
Ines smiled. “It does that to everyone.”
Lydia burst into the ladies’ waiting area. Flora trailed her. “You okay?” they asked in one voice.
Ivy nodded. “Ines sat with me.”
“Thanks so much, Ines.” The librarian stood and straightened her shirt.
“It was my pleasure. See you later, Ivy.”
“Bye.” Ivy waved. Ines offered her a soft wink of solidarity and left the trio alone in the women's room.
✽✽✽
Lydia picked up Scout early from class, apologizing for leaving the teacher with only one other helper. Big church concluded their last song as she walked to the car. Ivy sat in the front seat drying her eyes. Lydia strapped Scout into her seat. She sang to the little one to distract her from her mother’s obvious sadness.
Scout gurgled and clapped. Once fully secured, she turned her attention to a dangling turtle strapped to her car seat. Lydia took her place behind the wheel and started the car.
“Want lunch?” Ivy shrugged. “Let’s find someplace less crowded to eat and then we can talk.”
Lydia turned the car to the town’s Chinese restaurant, “Noodle or No”. It opened an hour earlier than the other restaurants in town. The lunch rush from the churches wouldn’t have made its way to the small eatery.
Lydia observed Ivy walk in a fog to a small table near the back of the restaurant. She ordered their meals, gathered their drinks and supplies and went to her. “Ready to talk?”
“There’s nothing much to say. Flashbacks, that’s all. And missing my Mema.” Ivy stirred her drink with a straw and avoided eye contact.
Lydia watched Ivy eat and drink, struggling to decipher Ivy’s hidden wounds. Scars of the past crested beneath her normal expression. But if the teen knew what she was upset over she wasn’t about to share it with Lydia. Lydia struggled to respect Ivy’s wishes. She wanted to interrogate the girl until they reached an understanding or Lydia knew how to fix her sadness.
This very natural response had been a constant obstacle between her and Joan, as well. Joan would shrink back into herself and Lydia would attack, trying to ward off whatever bad vibes were dragging down her girl. Sometimes Lydia wondered if her prodding, though stemming from care, had run Joan off to Africa. At the very least she was certain it had made it easier for Joan to leave.
Lydia finished her meal in silence. She didn’t want to start Ivy back to crying. They had an appointment to keep at the library.
Lydia drank three glasses of water with her meal. She wanted her veins primed for action. She was not about to admit it to Ivy and cause the girl more consternation but Lydia hated getting her blood drawn. Her technicians were never able to find her vein on the first prick. It often took several stabs and more than one employee to get a beneficial poke. Lydia shoved her nervousness aside.
Both Lydia and Ivy cracked open their fortune cookies and read the cheesy sentiments aloud. Ivy barely finished hers when a distant siren stirred the dining room.
Reflex drew the diners toward the shop’s front windows. Lydia bypassed them all and strode outside. Smoke billowed from the library parking lot. Ivy stood in the doorway holding Scout.
“The van?”
“I don’t know. Stay here and I’ll go see.” Lydia peered down the road in both directions before heading across the street. She hustled. Her favorite leather boots hugged the street as she ran to the cause of the smoke.
Bill Barnaby paced the parking lot. He stood dangerously close to the growing fire. Lydia stopped in front of him and grabbed hold of his shoulders. He didn’t seem to see her. “Bill? Bill!” He didn't answer. Slowly, he raised a swollen hand and pointed toward the burning mobile.
“Jake,” Lydia asked. Bill offered no answer. He swayed and worried his blistering hand over his bald head.
Lydia shielded her eyes from the smoke and squinted into the darkening cloud. She was about to hightail it into the fire and see if she could assist Jake when a firefighter pulled her away.
“We’ve got this, ma'am. Are there any more people trapped inside?” He lifted her, his hands under her elbows, and scooted her out of the way.
“One I think... But I’m not sure. I wasn’t here when the fire started. You’ll have to ask him.” She pointed at Bill. “I think he needs help.”
The firefighter nodded and instructed another crew member to check out Bill and still another to enter the mobile. Lydia backed away as the rescue team did their work. The blaze was under control in a few moments, though the entire ordeal seemed to drag on forever.
“I think one of the refrigeration units sparked. There was fire pouring out of the unit.” One of the first responders said to another. The smell of smelting metal and burning plastic mingled with the fading petrichor. Lydia prayed rain would wash the scent of the disaster from the scene.
“Did he make it?” another asked, referring to Jake Cloverdale. Lydia held her breath and waited to hear the answer.